


want your heart in the most unromantic way

by shannyan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Masochism, Organ Theft, Violent Sex, ask to tag, don’t be scared by the tags it’s rly just some mean sex, gore porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannyan/pseuds/shannyan
Summary: — which doesn’t mean there’s no romance to it. There’s something inherently romantic about hearts after all. Having it literally ripped out of your chest might make you deny that, but Hidan’s a special case.(Kakuzu starts with cutting Hidan’s heart out and ends with fucking him boneless. Uh.)
Relationships: Hidan/Kakuzu (Naruto)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	want your heart in the most unromantic way

Hypothesis: Given that while reattachment is preferable, regrowth is also possible, meaning Hidan can have any body part safely removed. Therefore, it’s feasible that Kakuzu can remove and implant Hidan’s heart into his own body. 

At worst, it’ll fail and he’ll simply procure a heart elsewhere. At best, it carries remnants of Hidan’s healing powers, which is exactly what he’s looking for. Though the boring case is most likely, where it’ll work like any old heart, but subpar. 

It doesn’t even occur to Kakuzu to ask for permission first; after all, he’d have killed Hidan a hundred times by now if he could. He didn’t give a fuck about his preferences. So he snuck into his room, bound him to his bed, pumped him full of anaesthesia, and went to work. 

It was almost as if Hidan was waiting for him, on his back with his limbs randomly strewn, shirtless save for the damned necklace hanging low on his chest. Kakuzu takes a second to just look, something he seldom did as he resented how Hidan preened under the attention. Spots he vividly recalled sowing up showed no evidence of the stitches, the skin there perfectly blank and smooth. In a way, it was irritating how often Kakuzu fixed him up without a mark to prove it. Not even ripping out his heart would be evident after a week tops. 

First thing’s first, a large needle in his arm to spread some anaesthesia. Drugs do actually work on him but rapidly metabolize. The workaround is frequent administrations and large dosages… if one is feeling generous. Kakuzu is undecided; his goodwill depends on Hidan’s reaction upon waking. 

Which may take a while; no fear of death makes you sleep like a baby, apparently. There’s a small grunt when the gag is tied around his head, a twitch of his leg against the chain wrapped tight (very tight, as blood circulation isn’t a concern), but that’s about it. Thanks to the anaesthesia, he’s undisturbed even when the first incision is made in his chest. 

Another stroke of generosity, Kakuzu cuts carefully and responsibly, more for the sake of the bedding than Hidan. He slipped a disposable sheet beneath them but it’ll soak right through if there’s too much blood, and Kakuzu knows the cleaning bill would come from the Akatsuki’s pocket since Hidan’s always broke. 

He’s surprised himself with how careful he is, after all his death threats, many of which were serious. Or they had been, before he built the tolerance for Hidanisms. Who’d have thought, Kakuzu can do the whole teammate thing if they last long enough for him to get used to it. While it’s a perfect opportunity to rid himself of the little pest, he’d rather keep Hidan alive, for now. He’s trained the kid to amplify his own abilities, like a sixth heart already, unruly but obedient enough. It’d be a liability to lose him at this point. 

Hidan wakes as the blade probes deeper, though Kakuzu doesn’t meet his gaze which goes from dazed to confused to frantic. The gag operates more of a muffler; the curses (he assumes) spat out are indistinguishable but loud and Kakuzu makes note to stuff a sock in there or something for next time. 

“Shut up. You’ll be fine.”

Not that Kakuzu really gets it, but apparently masochism heeds the rules of TPO. As Hidan put it, getting stabbing in the heart during his ritual feels like getting fucked (in a good way) but having his neck snapped on a roadside feels like getting fucked (in a bad way). 

He still won’t look up at Hidan, who stupidly counters by flailing now, twisting wherever he could, mainly small jerks of his hips, rolls of his shoulders, but most regrettably, twists of his chest, which very nearly causes the scalpel to slip into his lung. 

Kakuzu does finally look at him, to slap him across the face with a bloodied and gloved hand before promptly returning to his work. “Struggling is only going to hurt you. Behave and I’ll be done in minutes.”

Yet another stroke in his kind streak, he even looks Hidan in the eyes to affirm their understanding. They’re bright with rage, almost pink instead of red, promising vengeance and blood. And then, because Hidan’s a little shit, he shuts them tight in a show of rejection and wiggles as much as his drug addled body can muster. 

“Fine. No more anaesthesia for you.” All the better, actually, since the stuff is pretty expensive. Call it retribution for all the shit he’s always put up with. 

He hasn’t got Hidan’s body to an exact science so he can’t quite tell when what will happen, and so his only indication of the drugs wearing off is the way Hidan’s angry groans rapidly rise in pitch. He’s cut neat squares in his flesh and folded them back, snapped his ribs where they futilely try and shield his heart, and now works to cut the heart out in a way that’ll preserve its integrity. It takes no doctor to know that this is definitely not the procedure for open heart surgery, but in Kakuzu’s defense, people are usually half dead when he tries this method, so he’s never had to be careful with the rest of the body. Nor does he particularly have to be careful with Hidan, really.

It’s definitely eerie to see the inside of a living body. Everything moves— the full fill and deflation of his lungs, the lumpy fluttering of his heart, the arrhythmic contractions of the other, irrelevant organs. Usually by the time he cuts into his victims, the heart’s the last thing moving, and just barely. Again, he marvels at the unnaturalness of it all, laments on how it’s wasted on its host. 

Just cracked ribs hurt like a bitch, snapping them is a true form of torture, even for a certified masochist like Hidan. His body trembles now, not in defiance but faux shock; his body isn’t actually shutting down but it doesn’t know that, it just knows that pain bad. It makes the bleeding and heart beating slow, which makes the whole ordeal easier. 

Kakuzu planned for Hidan to heal, but not now— he’d been so zoned in on extricating the heart from where it was suspended that he didn’t even notice the way the surrounding ribs were extending like teeth, slowly closing in a bite, the skin on top stretching to plug itself, the intrusion Kakuzu’s arms provided be damned. 

So this is how an immortal body reacts to shock. 

Hidan’s back to making sounds again and he’s laughing, in that crazy and self satisfied way of his, eyes rolled back and neck stretched so that his throat was completely straightened, body shaking with the force of it. 

He returns to struggling, so violently that a hand slipped from one of the cuffs, thumb crushed in the process, but that pain was probably low priority compared to what’s being inflicted on the rest of his body. Kakuzu’s too occupied to stop Hidan from pulling that gag down and laughing even louder and crazier, eliciting a strong regret of not snapping his neck in the first place. 

“Jashin protects the devout! He grants us victory and vanquishes our enemies!! He watches and rewards the faithful!” 

Absently, Kakuzu makes note of the fact that Hidan regenerates remarkably faster when going into shock. They could make use of that on the field. 

“Look how you stoop to such levels just to prolong your sad little life, meanwhile, true Jashinists are granted immortality, invincibility! To see his divinity and still turn away, you must be fucking stu—“

Presently, Kakuzu reopens the mostly-closed wound from the inside out, significantly less delicate than before, viciously actually, spurred by that annoying laugh shrill in his ears. The rapidly growing length of his ribs would’ve pierced Kakuzu’s skin, had he not the foresight to harden his entire arm. He pushes right back against the bone, snapping one or two ends, and consciously cuts the heart out much more recklessly than earlier. He wonders if it’d still heal once removed, and if it does, how long it would retain that property. It’s exciting enough to make him smile under his mask.

Hidan groans but in an odd, low pitch, legs twitching in their bounds. His four good fingers dig into Kakuzu’s arm, at the seam between normal and steeled flesh. And while he isn’t succeeding, Kakuzu can feel his arm being dragged closer, deeper inside the bloody cavity, and when he heeds, just a little, twists his arm and squeezes the heart in his hand, Hidan literally screams, long and loud, pained and yet still smiling. 

Kakuzu detaches his forearm an inch so his wires could slip through, instantly wrapping around Hidan’s neck to silence him. Asphyxiation doesn’t exactly work on him (after all, Hidan can talk as a decapitated head, he doesn’t really need a respiratory system to breathe) but it shuts him up some, from the pain of deflated lungs. It makes the heart beat faster then slower, dangerously slow, so he reluctantly loosens up and wraps the wires around Hidan’s mouth instead. The accomplishment lasts for only a second before he feels a tongue lap against the bounds in a way that was completely unnecessary, and the incessant licking was somehow even worse than all the shouting, and so he completely retracted his wires all at once. 

Kakuzu knows that these religious powers are all in Hidan’s crazy head, just a bizarre self-made explanation for his abilities, but the effect the thoughts have on him are very real. Just the thought of his sick little god flips a switch in him. It makes Hidan curse, pray, shout, moan, teeter and totter between good and bad pain, though it was leaning more towards the former. 

Hidan usually hardly reacted to pain— his lax posture was unchanging even when stabbed through the chest, his breath barely hitched, his face contorted more in irritation than hurt. Were it not for all his complaining you wouldn’t even think he experienced pain. Kakuzu actually still had his doubts that Hidan actually felt the pain. Or he did. Now he’s learnt that Hidan really does feel it, but maybe in a different way from a normal person. 

Kakuzu immediately notices Hidan’s hard on, raised high enough to brush against his tailbone. He has half the mind to crush it right back down, if he didn’t think Hidan would enjoy that too. It’s nothing new, everyone in the Akatsuki knows he’s horny for pain and murder, but pressing right against it is a first. 

Logically, he shouldn’t get so irritated— if Hidan really… gets off on this, then it’s mutually beneficial, which eases the teeny tiny bit of guilt Kakuzu may experience in torturing his partner. They’ve been working together way too long, for Kakuzu to feel something like that. It’s been a long time since he’s worked with someone successfully (meaning: he didn’t kill them the moment his patience ended (and even your best estimate on how long that would take is too generous compared to the reality)). So he’s attached enough to not always want the worst for the brat. Whatever. He can admit that, though only to himself. 

Anyway, he should torture Hidan in earnest now, but. Maybe it’s the breathless cries of “Jashin-sama~”, or the way his thighs rub together and against Kakuzu’s own, or how his whole body curves towards the mutilating hands. Hidan’s always openly getting off from pain, eyes rolling back and everything, but this is different, somehow. Since when was Hidan even capable of forsaking shrill laughter and shouting to soft gasps and murmurs?

He scoots back a little, just to see what’d happen. 

Hidan gasps and bucks up as high as he’s allowed, which isn’t much matched with Kakuzu’s weight. He shudders so hard they both feel it, especially at their lower point of contact. 

“Yeah, yeah, that, exactly THAT!” Hidan’s face is almost comically surprised, and Kakuzu feels the same way, as he’s usually not so reckless and impulsive. “Holy shit, you’re down to fuck?”

Kakuzu goes still against all the wiggling, even his hands stopping. “I’m performing what is essentially open heart surgery. You can’t actually be stupid enough to ask me to fuck you.”

Hidan’s so far gone he doesn’t take offense to the insult. “Yeah, YEAH, c’mon, that dick broke? Then fist me. No—“ His eyes go wide (Damn it, why’s Kakuzu even looking at his stupid face) “Fuck me with those wire tentacle things. Holy fuck. Yesss.”

Each suggestion flashes in his mind, like a reflex, summoned before permitted entry, and though he dismisses them as quickly as they come, they’ve already taken their effect. He raises his hips to remove the point of contact, chastising himself for straddling the other in the first place. Ever the opportunist, his insane little lab rat of the day follows him up, grinds against his front as best he can. 

“You know how long it’s been since I’ve been fucked. Who’s fault is that, huh??”

Kakuzu’s first instinct is to refuse responsibility for something so inane, but thinking back, he had actually refused Hidan allowance for brothels. He’d assumed Hidan was decent looking enough to get sex without paying, but apparently his personality was too great an impediment. Not a surprise. 

It’s been a long time since Kakuzu’s fucked someone. A long time since he’s had a good fuck. So why not? He’s hard right now anyway, and Hidan’s literally gift wrapped. 

It’s been a while for him. Brothels aren’t worth the money, and he doesn’t quite have the kind of face that enables flirting. And even though sex can be seen as an act of dominance, there’s an undeniable vulnurability in the nudity and passion of it all, synthetic as it may be.

“C’mon~” His voice takes on the same tone used when he’s trying to haggle for something nice, like something pricey from a street vendor or the reattachment of one of his limbs. “I’m immortal, so no STDs, y’know? We don’t need condoms or lube or nothin’!”

More often than not, Kakuzu heeds that tone of voice, enjoying the submissiveness from someone he acknowledged as well as the sense of superiority it brings. Though that’s possibly the worst dirty talk Kakuzu has ever heard. But it succeeds in another way, the reminder of many past partners somehow jabbing at him despite not (yet) being one of them. No way someone’s been able to fuck Hidan right. 

You’d have to be suicidal to fuck Hidan since, like Kakuzu, he’s made the habit of killing any and everyone who spends enough time around him. Not for the same reasons, but still. Of course, a number of people must’ve fucked him, but not the way he’d want— the way Kakuzu could. Anyone that crazy would be able to detect the same craziness in Hidan and know that no matter how good a fuck it could be, it’s not worth their life. They’re both the only immortal each other knows. 

Kakuzu wouldn’t say Hidan deserves to be fucked like that, but knowing that only he could do it.. is satisfying, in a way. It makes him want to prove it. 

He unzips and shrugs off his cloak halfway so that it pooled at his lower back, bunches up at his elbows. Hidan's eyes widened with delight, but quickly narrowed with irritation once realizing it was to expel one of his hearts, which waited patiently at his side to be useful. 

He gives no warning, simply rips the heart out with no hesitation once it was properly cut free. Hidan gasps silently, eyes rolling back, and Kakuzu stills and watches, in case the still beating heart in his hand must be returned. It takes a few long seconds before Hidan’s breath returned, weak as it was, but it was no cause for alarm when he had that sick dopey grin on his face. “Hahh.. that’s the stuff…”

The heart is handed off to the awaiting mask, which snatched it up gingerly then scurried off to stash it in an icebox Kakuzu had the foresight to prepare. It’d be better to stick it in now, but…

Fuck, this actually sounds great. The idea definitely crossed his mind before, just as one of many possibilities. He didn’t think of actually doing it, and definitely didn’t anticipate how… exciting the reality could be. 

So he gets straight to it, much to Hidan’s delight. He knows better than to use spit for lube, but there’s more than enough blood to ease the way. His fingers are already all slicked up and everything. He sticks in two right off the bat, spreading them immediately despite— against the frantic squeeze of a body futilely trying to push him out.

“Fuck that, get on with it! 

“It’s for my sake.” Kakuzu answers calmly and honestly, staunchly against going in dry. He checks for the gag, or a rolled pair of socks, but Hidan did well to clear the entire table with his flailing. He clamps his free hand over the other’s mouth, now very much okay with having it licked and nibbled at. A man on the mission, he meticulously rubs against all the surface in his reach, and when he doesn’t find the spot there, he extends them from his knuckles to delve deeper. He hits the mark soon after, alerted by Hidan's scream over the firm touch. He stabs into it, pressing the blunt edge of his nail over the smooth muscle, and Hidan lets him know exactly how it feels, with sounds over words. 

Hidan’s also been gnawing at the hand which is now more inside his mouth rather than covering, crushing his jaw into the flesh as if biting into a piece of meat, but the skin there has already been long hardened. The pain doesn’t pass through but sensation does just fine, hot and wet. 

He pulls himself free from his pants, only then realizing how distracted he was by Hidan’s pleasure. He’s so turned on he’s dizzy from it, and he resents lacking his usual sharp mind for even a second. There’s no preamble to him shoving inside of the other, as far as he can reach. Hidan’s legs freeze before melting, weakly urging him to move by kicking his sides. Kakuzu swats at his thigh to signal that he stops, but the attention just makes them feebly squeeze around him. 

Threads sprout from his shoulder blades to wind around Hidan’s ankles, lifting them up and down so that his legs folded at his chest, then wound around both his thighs and calves to keep him immobilized and small. Those bound legs immediately try to stretch out but the threads are unyielding; they squeezed right back in a chastising motion. 

Hidan pulled his other hand free from the restraint, the scream of pain from breaking his thumb lost among all the other noises he was making, and it now curled tight into Kakuzu’s headdress, vaguely tugging his hair through it. The message is received and the headdress is torn away, mask along with it, not a thought spared on what a pain it’ll be to fix later. Turns out Hidan was onto something— he leaned forward, released a few stitches leading towards his mouth to widen its length, and bites into the junction of his shoulder. Hidan squirms in approval, puts all his strength into keeping Kakuzu there with both hands twisted tight into his hair. The pushiness would bug him if it weren’t such a vulnerable spot. Sure he can’t kill Hidan but he could literally rip his throat out, which (he’d hope) would exceed the bounds of his masochism. 

He traces over his windpipe with his tongue, feels his rapid pulse on the side, tries to pin it down with his teeth like a struggling animal. The blunt edges of his teeth hardly leave bleeding marks, but he can make peace with that. It does well enough to muffle the sounds he’s making himself, which already easily hide under Hidan’s vocalizations. 

It takes a moment to break through the thrumming pleasure fuzzying his senses, but he feels it, blunt nails digging into the meat of his neck. He oughta harden the skin there, but he decides against it, in favor of marks that’ll last days later as a reminder. No one, not even Hidan, would see them, not under his headdress anyway. 

The wounds seem to have mostly healed, meanwhile the blood hasn’t even dried, which is fascinating, disgusting. When he leans in close, draped over Hidan so that he can share in his shivers, the smell of Hidan narrowly overpowers the scent of blood, though the two are close enough. But Hidan’s scent lacked the biting edge of metal, like the blood was diluted with something, but he can’t quite say what. Wondering over it feels too close to romance, and so he straightens out, reduces contact to their obvious connection and hands on his hips to fuck him as cruelly as he can. 

Hidan notices despite his haze, makes grabby hands to try and retrieve him, which are dismissively knocked down. Their second attempt drives Kakuzu to slam them above his head in irritation, and they stay there this time. 

Sat on his haunches lower on Hidan’s body, down at his thighs now, Kakuzu takes in his image. He’s bloody all over, mainly from the wound on his chest, where blood has trailed all down his sides, down his stomach, even tucked beneath his waistband. Kakuzu dressed for the occasion and the precaution proved smart, as his own ratty pants were thoroughly covered in blood as well. Hidan’s wrists are badly chafed, the bleeding there more subdued, but rapidly mending on its own. 

It shouldn’t be attractive, but that point doesn’t map to the reality that it is, pretty hot actually. 

Kakuzu can tell when the pain of penetration fades, as the tension seeps from Hidan’s body, like sweating out a fever. He freely writhes and moans and follows Kakuzu’s pace, Kakuzu’s hips, angling his own inwards to most efficiently impale himself. 

“Fuck, FUCK, yeah, Jashin-sama—“

“Who’s the one fucking you, huh?” Kakuzu smacks him across the face, hard enough to twist his neck to the side. “You’re gonna kill my boner.” 

Hidan breathes out a harsh laugh, cheek rubbing against the side of his arm to dispel the wetness from his eyes. Kakuzu notes with a hint of pleasure that he keeps his arms up and away even without the restraints. “You should be thanking Jashin-sama for the great fu—“

Kakuzu grabs a handful of his hair, pulls his head up a few inches, and slams it back down, straight through whatever cushiness the futon provided right down to the hard ground. Hidan’s eyes unfocus and he chokes on his words, entire body jerking and tensing. 

The irritation was only half founded. He enjoyed the struggle, a staple of their partnership, but all the religion talk was an instant sore spot. Not that he gave a fuck over how Hidan spends his time, but Kakuzu has his own TPO for the whole thing. 

Hidan’s eyes flash with challenge rather than anger, and his arms stretch to grab Kakuzu’s hands at his hips, at the wrists where he tugged insistently. Kakuzu indulges him and lets himself be guided, already satisfied with the purpling handprints he’s left. 

It turns out Hidan has no interest in his hands, was just using them to anchor Kakuzu closer. Once within reach, he ducked his head into Kakuzu’s neck with a bout of kisses and bites. Kakuzu jolts when he feels Hidan tongueing at the stitches, nipped insistently at one of them til it snapped, and topping it off with a hard bite on the flap of skin. 

He’s way too into this. He can feel the throbbing of all 5 of his hearts, fast and asynchronous, and he can’t muster the focus to control them, pace them, match them. It’s not a lazy, bleary kind of dizziness, but something more frantic, buzzing, energy climbing with no signs of peaking. He feels— frustrated, though he can’t quite say why. 

So he suddenly pulls out (it earns him a loud whine and an accusation of “impotent bastard!”) grabs the little Hidan bundle and rises to his feet. He sandwiches Hidan between himself and the wall and promptly resumes drilling into him. He grabs him by the hips, hiking them to level, and slips right back in, groaning under his breath at how tight it still was. Like this, Hidan can’t even angle his hips like he could before, helpless to how Kakuzu pulled him on and off with a too firm grip on his ass. They’re pressed tight, Hidan’s dick jabbing into his stomach with every thrust, making each shot a double whammy. 

Hidan’s entire frame shakes with every ragged breath, and the heaving of his chest naturally draws Kakuzu’s eyes to the wound he made, healing slower than before now that the shock had worn off. It’s bloody and gooey and tender looking, and now that he’s aware of it, he can see how his own entire front is smeared red, from his collarbone to his hips, still wet as it mixed with sweat. He oughta sow it up, but it gave him an odd sort of pleasure to look at it, into it. 

Hidan watches him watching. “Y’can fuck that hole next if you— hah! I-If you want.”

Kakuzu absolutely does not want to, but Hidan’s eyes seem to sparkle with the idea, so he indulges him just a bit by thumbing the gorey opening, scraping his nail against the torn edges. Hidan arches into it, with his trademark maniacal laugh which Kakuzu could do without, but whatever. 

Hidan then wraps his arms around Kakuzu’s neck, bows his head and hides his face there, panting wetly. It’s a startling submissive move, likely only borne out of his partner’s fatigue and fuzzy-headedness, but it strikes a bit of pride regardless. What little brains Hidan has are getting fucked right out. 

He doesn’t even ask before craning his head up and kissing Kakuzu straight on the mouth. It’s a real impertinent move, especially with how his embracing arms caged Kakuzu in place. He even has the nerve to squeeze him closer, arms affording little space for Kakuzu to so much as pull back for a breath of air. Hidan goes straight for the prize, pushes his tongue into Kakuzu’s mouth with no warning or permission. He bites down on it instantly but keeps it where it is, sucks on it hard so that Hidan’s arms go weak like jelly. 

No matter how hard he crushes Hidan against the wall, it’s not quite enough. Maybe he just, wants to see what’ll happen, which will give out first, Hidan or the wall. He leans back a bit, then surges forward, slamming the groaning mess in his arms into the wall, but nope, it stands firm, though Hidan suffers a full body shudder. 

He keeps it up for a bit before his mind changes and he throws Hidan back down, on his stomach this time, stomps on his back between his shoulder blades so that his arms give out and his face is crushed against the floor, rescinds the threads to release a pair of now red-patterned legs. They’re useless in this position anyway, only able to hold Hidan’s weight, and just barely. This is better, out of touch and kiss’s reach. Again, he frowns at the thought of how fleeting the marking would be, whether a little hickey or a full on bite mark. 

He doesn’t stash them away, recalls Hidan’s demand to get wire fucked, and concedes it’s not a bad idea, he ought to at least try it. Not too many, and certainly not too far, as he wants to be the one primarily doing the fucking. So the threads mostly huddle at Hidan’s rim, hooking and tugging and teasing the inside and out. It’s pretty pleasurable for Kakuzu as well, especially the way it makes Hidan’s hole twitch and clamp in response. 

“FUCK!! What’re you— nasty old man—“ It takes just a second for him to get used to it. “Fuck, more of that, keep on—“ 

He places a hand at the sweaty dip of Hidan’s back and pushes hard, making the other involuntarily push his chest into the floor, raise his ass higher in the air, surrendering the friction he found against the futon. Satisfied, his touch runs lower, tracing individual vertebrae through the muscle framing them, up and up til he’s at the back of his neck. Here he squeezes, not in a spot that’ll choke, more like grabbing a cat by the scruff of its neck. 

“Weak. Impulsive. Stupid.” He’s hardly thinking of what he’s saying, just knows he wants to talk about Hidan, and he’s too prideful to say the nice stuff. Like how good he looks all breathless and weak, flushed as dark as he could get despite the lack of exertion on his part, just— taking whatever he gets. Kakuzu could snap his head straight off his neck and he’d happily take it, maybe even come just from that. He moves a little higher to his hair, ungelled and sweaty, gathers a handful and yanks. Pulls until his neck arcs, and then some more. 

“Ugh, fuck, so good— faster, now—!”

Kakuzu’s got half the mind to make him beg for it, rather likes that idea, but he couldn’t slow down now even if he wanted to. He ceases pulling up and instead pushes down, uses his grip in Hidan’s hair to grind his face against the floor, which works like a charm to quiet him. 

The strain quickly proves to be too much and Hidan’s knees give out, body trying to slump forward in rest, but it takes just an arm around his waist to keep him steady and somewhat upright. His hips twitch in an attempt to rub against the floor so Kakuzu hikes him up a bit higher, just out of reach. 

He makes a point to not touch Hidan, wants this to last as long as it can. Live long enough and you build some resistance, even if you fuck less and less. Hidan does well to indicate when Kakuzu hits the exact right spot; he’s loud enough that everyone in the hideout probably knows. Kakuzu can’t find the space in his mind to care about that detail. He’s having too much fun avoiding Hidan’s prostate, at how frustrated his huffs of breath grow. 

“You fucking TEASE, how hard can it be to stick your dick in the right spot, senile—“ He doesn’t hit Hidan for this, instead punishes him with another off mark thrust. 

Not like it really matters, Hidan seems to enjoy everything being done to him, indiscriminate and greedy. He ends up predictably coming first, announces it five times in a single breath before shooting his load, tensing fullbodied, curled toes, hunched shoulders, wildly grasping fingers and all. And then he turns to jelly, ass loose and open. Kakuzu consciously unfastens his hold on the self control he had retained, which was really only what he could fit in his own two hands, a small fraction of what he usually maintained. He’s gotta lift one of his hands from Hidan’s hips to clamp over his own mouth which he bites, viciously, at the fleshy bit between his thumb and index finger. He lets himself really feel what he’s doing, how good it feels physically but in theory too, to fuck, to dominate, to take. Recalling the initial permission, he comes inside (though he would’ve regardless), so hard that his vision genuinely blanks for a split second. 

Dropping Hidan is a half conscious decision, but Kakuzu remains in his kneeling position, looking down at Hidan’s slapped-red ass, at the drops of cum already splattered between his thighs. It’s a strong enough image that he has to force himself to look away, labored breathing hitching even more. 

He lingers for only minutes afterwards, waiting for his breath to even out, and put good use to that time by getting cleaned and dressed up. Hidan doesn’t even look his way, probably completely unaware of his surroundings, floating in a post orgasm haze. Kakuzu doesn’t bother breaking him out of it before leaving, in a rush to get outta there before he says or does something he’d regret. 

In the end, the experiment fails, stolen heart mustering a few lazy beats before sputtering and dying out. Refusing to be taken, owned. 

Rather than dejected, he only sees a new challenge. Just as he’ll be the one to kill Hidan, he’ll also be the one to leave a permanent mark, and the one to make use out of that stubborn heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> this might be even weirder than my drhdr fics wow haha how will i outdo myself next.


End file.
